Step into a studio near London Bridge, and the first thing you hear is Frank Bruno’s unmistakable laugh.
It rolls down the corridor before he even appears, warm, booming, and completely infectious.
He greets everyone like family, a handshake gentle despite hands built for a boxing ring.
At 64, Bruno still carries the confidence of a man half his age.
He heads straight to the kettle, spoons in two sugars, and eyes the birthday cakes waiting for him: chocolate vanishes first.
Today is more than a celebration of another year — it’s a glimpse into a life that has seen triumph, heartbreak, and survival.
From Boxing Glory to Personal Battles
Bruno’s story is often told in terms of punches thrown and titles won.
A detached retina, brutal matches in the ring, the pressures of being Britain’s favourite heavyweight — none of it compares to the fight he faced after the gloves came off.
In September 2003, the former world champion reached his darkest chapter.
Retired, divorced, and grieving the loss of his trainer, George Francis, Bruno’s behaviour became erratic.
His family, concerned, made the painful decision to have him sectioned under the Mental Health Act.
Locked Away and Left in the Dark
He remembers that night vividly: ambulances, police cars, reporters climbing fences, helicopters overhead. “It was the worst day of my life,” he says, fiddling with a gift watch.
Taken to Goodmayes Hospital in Essex, Bruno describes the experience as mentally and emotionally brutal.
“The room was no bigger than a prison cell,” he recalls.
“No TV, no freedom. Even going to the toilet had to be supervised.
It was like living in hell. They treated me very rough, tried to wind me up, to make me miserable.”
Daily Mail Sport contacted Goodmayes Hospital, who stated that they have since made significant improvements to patient care and environments.
Fighting for Control Over His Own Mind
Discharged after three weeks, Bruno faced another challenge: managing life outside, heavily medicated and largely alone.
He describes the drugs as overwhelming, turning him into a “zombie,” and recalls the months of grueling effort to prove he could live independently.
“They wanted me to be on medication for life,” he says.
“I had to fight to take control. I became my own doctor.
My rehab was physical, returning to the gym, to the only routine I trusted.”
Even now, his discipline continues: weight circuits, sprints, stretches, and sauna sessions form the backbone of his daily life.
The routine isn’t just about fitness — it’s therapy, a reclamation of self and joy.
A Family Torn and Rebuilt
The sectioning fractured Bruno’s family.
His daughter Rachel, only 16, was asked to sign the committal papers.
Bruno says he felt pushed away, even though Rachel believed she had saved him.
Today, relationships have healed, but he still recalls the pain of those months vividly.
“I love my kids, and they love me,” he says. “We’ve rebuilt.
But at the time, it felt like I was being pushed away.”
Boxing’s Shadows and Unanswered Questions
The scars aren’t only personal. Bruno remains critical of the British Boxing Board of Control, accusing it of failing to support fighters after their careers end.
“Boxers take the risk, make the money, and then they’re forgotten,” he says, his voice hardening.
And there are old rivalries too. Mention Lennox Lewis, and the tone shifts.
Bruno recalls decades-old moments, public slights, and the infamous “Uncle Tom” comment.
Forgiveness hasn’t erased it.
“I will never let it go,” he says, matter-of-factly.
Looking Ahead in the Sport He Loves
Bruno still keeps a keen eye on modern boxing.
He wants to see Anthony Joshua face Tyson Fury, Britain’s two giants, and he analyses the sport with the insight of someone who has lived every punch, every glory, every setback.
“He’s unfairly judged because of his bipolar,” Bruno says of Fury.
“He changes his mind every week. But he’s clever, and he’s good for boxing.”
Even while discussing modern fights and controversies, Bruno’s warmth returns.
He pours another tea, laughs at a joke, and the charisma that once lit up arenas continues to fill every room he enters.
Triumph Beyond the Ring
Sitting with Frank Bruno, you see more than the fighter — you see the survivor.
He has faced darkness, humiliation, and a battle to reclaim his own mind.
Yet here he is, laughing, moving, living life entirely on his own terms.
Bruno has survived the ring, survived what came after it, and continues to thrive.
His story is one of resilience, discipline, and a refusal to be defined by the world’s challenges.
In every gesture, every smile, he radiates the spirit of a man who has fought and continues to fight — not just in the ring, but for life itself.